The Forbidden Love: A Dramione Fanfic
by hogwartsaplusstudent
Summary: Hermione and Draco, a young witch and wizard, a mudblood and pureblood, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. They were at opposite ends of the spectrum, and were bound to fall in love. But what happens, when that love isn't allowed by societal standards? Hiding, lies, scandal, fights, and love. Dramione
1. Chapter 1

The Forbidden Love

A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter 1:

The light filtered through the pink curtains making the room seem like a little girl's mirage. The tea set still left from 5 years ago was collecting dust. The blankets on the bed untouched for about a year, and the pillows unmoved. The rest of the house was quiet, but clean. The home was less than modestly covered with photographs of a young girl progressing with age. Some of them featured her wearing what one may see as a witch costume. Some were at a train station in which she waved goodbye with her trunk in hand and her cat next to her. She had to have been an only child, as she was the only one who was in any of the frames. On top of the mantle of the fire place was a family photo. Her parents were middle aged with few wrinkles. She was the perfect mix of them both.

The front door opened and let in a warm sense of welcoming love. The middle aged man in the picture brought in a trunk, similar to the ones in the various photographs throughout the halls. He pressed a button on his keys and the car beeped from outside. Soon, the woman from the picture walked in, guiding the girl through the doorway. The girl was taller, her face was beginning to grow into the intelligent mind she had. Her hair cascaded in tight waves and bounced with every step. She smiled at the sight of the house.

"Home," she said with a tired sigh.

"I'm going to put your trunk in your room, okay sweetheart?" her dad called to her as he was taking the trunk towards the back of the house. She nodded slightly and picked up her orange cat.

"Are you hungry Crookshanks? Let's get you some food," she spoke to her cat in a high pitched voice.

Her mother had already gone into the kitchen to start on dinner. The wavy haired girl walked into the kitchen for cat food and realized she didn't know where it was anymore.

"Mum, where's the food for Crookshanks?"

"What, Hermione?" her mom said louder beyond the sizzling of vegetables in the pan.

"The cat food," Hermione moved closer to her mom and asked again where it was.

"In the pantry, to the left of the cereals."

As Crookshanks leaped out of her arms to eat, she stared into the pantry. The food at her school was much different than the food from home. At home, there were popular name food brands, apple juice, and her favorite quick meals to microwave. At school, there were foods that she had never heard of, pumpkin juice, and she could only get food at the meal times specified. To the unknowing eye, her school seemed like a prison: only certain people could go in or out, you had to stay in a certain area of the building, you couldn't be out after curfew, you had to participate in learning, etc. To Hermione though, it was everything she could have ever asked for.

In her room, she began to unpack her trunk. Folded and pressed outfits that all looked similar, textbooks, and something in a special case. She opened the case and revealed her wand. The pure joy on her face could only be seen on someone who had this special privilege. Not every muggle-born had magic in them. They couldn't go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They couldn't cast spells or charms. She had something that they all didn't have: hope.

"Hermione! Dinner time!"

"Coming," she replied as she took in all of the smells of her home. The food, the air freshener her mom used, the laundry detergent used on her blankets, and even the dust that had collected over the years. With a small smile to herself, she walked towards the dining room and sat with her family to eat their first dinner in a whole year.

There was always her second family though; the friends she had made at Hogwarts had become like her brothers. But, nothing beat her real family. The one she's known the longest. Her parents loved her more than anything, and even though she was an only child, she never felt lonely.

The clanking of silverware on the china echoed through the manor. There was a sense of nothingness, even though there were three bodies quietly eating below. The room felt cold, seeming to block any heat by shooting it with the frost of the marble floors and pillars. It was dark for the most part, except for bits of light that snaked their way through the vines that grew over the tall windows. A man with long, sleek, blonde hair cleared his thought.

"So, Draco," he hesitated and quickly glanced at his wife who gave a slight nod of encouragement, "How was the trip home?"

Draco, a young teenager with blonde hair similar to his father's, looked up and quickly looked back down.

"Fine, father. Why?" He began to fiddle with the food on his plate, rolling pea like vegetables around with his fork.

"Don't question me," he sharply hissed. Seeing his wife's expression, he quickly gained composure and tried again.

"I-I-I mean, can't a father ask his son how the train ride was?" he stumbled over his words. The tension in the room was _obvious_. Draco sighed and dropped the fork suddenly,

"No, not fathers like you," he said through gritted teeth, staring at his father with a small flame of hatred. The chair slid back from him as he stormed away from the unnecessarily long table, his shoes clacking as he left.

"Lucius!" the woman with black hair gave him a sharp look.

"He's _soft_! You babied him too long!" he hissed at her.

"I _babied_ him? You mean I raised him when he was a child? You mean I wasn't skulking around with _You-know-who_?" the last part came out as a whisper.

"Narcissa!" Lucius leaned closer to her and whispered in a barely audible voice, "You and I both know that what we did was for the good of the family name. Draco would be living like that Potter boy and we, ha, we would have been dead by now."

They stared at each other and finally Narcissa, with shaking hands and teary eyes said,

"The family name? What about _my_ family Lucius? As much as I didn't agree with them, I still loved them! And you went along with the Dark Lord and _killed them_! You're worried about the family name of Malfoy? I've lost my entire family to that name." Tears began to stream down her face and makeup left black veins on the surface of her porcelain skin.

Lucius's fists clenched and his nails scraped the table, "If you can't handle being completely dedicated to blood purity, then you don't deserve the name of Mal—"

Narcissa cut him off sharply and raised her voice, "_I_ don't deserve the name of Malfoy? I'm sorry, but you begged me to marry you. I was going to marry Potter and was desperate when he ran off with that mudblood! You promised me revenge and I only get hatred and a son who doesn't even love us!" she shivered at the thought and realized what she had just said. Swiftly pivoting, and a hand over her mouth, a sob escaped. Lucius's rough and scarred hand touched her shoulder, but was quickly shrugged off as Narcissa briskly walked away and slammed the front door. Lucius was left, alone, in the empty, cold, black house which mirrored what was left of his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Diary,

It's so odd writing with regular printer paper instead of the parchment scrolls. Moving on.

I realized something on the train ride home, something that I would rather have not realized. I don't want to name any names because I'm not sure who may read this. But he's beautiful, and talented, and even though a lot of people don't realize it, he's smart. He's so funny and knows exactly how to get to people.~~~

The diary entry cut off as her father opened the door and peeked through. She jumped and threw the journal up with a jolt.

"Dad! Knock!" she said with a slight smile.

"Sorry! Sorry!" his hands were put up in a submissive way as he walked in.

"Did you need something?" sweetly, Hermione put on a smile as she tried to hide the book.

"Just seeing what's happening, you know, what's the 411, what's the bomb diggity?" her father said at an attempt to bond and relate with her.

She chuckled, "Dad, no one says any of that stuff anymore."

He laughed, "I know but it made you laugh right?"

She nodded and followed him out to watch their favorite movie together, Mary Poppins.

Throughout the whole movie, she kept thinking of the boy. Everything seemed to remind her of him, yet she had this sense that this connection was more than just friendship. It was undeniably fate. An unsettling feeling washed over Hermione. Sometimes, she could sense when someone she loved was in danger, or was sad or hurt. She looked towards her father, who was perfectly content watching his movie.

"Dad, where's Mum?" she asked. If it wasn't her father, it had to have been her mother. There was no other family she was close to.

"Erm, I think she's taking a nap in her bedroom. Why?"

"Oh, I was just curious. I know she was tired earlier and I wanted to make sure she was okay."

"Alright, sweetheart," her father replied as he began to zone back into the echoes of song about a spoonful of sugar.

_ Well, if it's not Dad and it's not Mum, who is it? According to the daily prophet, Ron is having a blast with his family. I know how I feel when Harry is being threatened, and it's not this feeling. This feeling is pain, loss, suffering…not death, no. It's worse than losing someone to death. Who am I connected to?_ Hermione questioned herself and her loved ones as she attempted to solve the mystery. Crookshanks jumped up into her lap and purred while nuzzling himself into Hermione's hand. Reflexively, she began to pet her cat's fur and remained in deep thought, still unable to figure out who it was she was sensing.

* * *

Dear Diary,

Right now, I'm absolutely disgusted with the fact that I still write in this stupid journal. I've had this since I was 11 and I swore to myself I would stop at age 12. Ha, yeah right. Anyways, I met this girl at Hogwarts. Well, I didn't necessarily meet her, per say. I already knew her, I just didn't _know_ her. I found that she is beautiful, inside and out. She has a way with words and spells and charms. She is definitely the smartest witch in our class. But there's an issue with this: she wasn't the only person I've really been able to _see_ this past year at Hogwarts. The other person is someone whom Father absolutely hates. Practically everything seems to revolve around this boy. He's famous, so why wouldn't it. But still, every time his name comes up in casual talk, I instinctively look up, waiting to see if maybe he would see me as well.

Nonetheless, I probably won't have a chance with either of them. Neither the famous boy who lived, nor the mudblood witch who is the smartest of our age.

Whatever.

-Draco

Draco shut his journal in frustration. Never had he felt so alone in his life. He thought about writing an owl to either Harry or Hermione, but realized that both of them lived with muggle families. If his father ever found out that he contacted a mudblood or a muggle raised wizard, he would disown Draco.

"Dobby!" Draco yelled out into the empty bedroom.

"Yes, master Draco," the old house elf squeaked obediently.

"Draw me a bath, I need some time alone."

"Of course, master. Anything for master Draco. Master Draco is the only Malfoy who treats Dobby with any kind of respect-"

"Not now Dobby. Please, just let me be."

The house elf nodded slightly and shined a small smile through his large green eyes towards Draco. He began to draw a bath and snapped his fingers and disapparated.

With a sigh, the young Malfoy began to undress. Whilst upon doing so, images of both Harry and Hermione alternated within his mind. Realizing what was happening, he immediately focused on something else. The sound of the water helped him focus on reality. He stepped into the bath tub and relaxed. His eyes shut and he began to drift to sleep, dreaming of a life where things were different.

Draco's eyes flipped open with the sound of a light knock on the door. He recognized the knock immediately as his father's wand, tapping. The tapping echoed through his ears as he scrambled to get dressed. His heart began to race as he wondered if his father read his journal. _No, he wouldn't have been able to open it. I locked it well enough with charms that Hermione showed to the class. He couldn't have done it_, Draco thought to himself. With a final sigh, the door swung open. Draco stood before his father, his hair still wet and ruffled. Lucius' hair was slicked back and shiny, even in the fluorescent lighting. Draco's eyes trailed down his father's robes towards a gloved hand that was holding open a book. _His_ book. It was open to the page he had just written.

"Hello, Draco," Lucius said with long pauses between each word. He knew. He knew everything and there was nothing Draco could do to escape it.

"Yes?"

"Is there, _something_ you want to tell me?" Lucius held the open journal, which seemed blank.

"N-no," Draco stuttered.

"_Aparecium_" Lucius casted the spell and Draco's words appeared. Draco felt defeated. He looked down at his feet in shame.

"I thought you would know better, Draco," Again, Lucius spoke in broken phrases, taking a pause between every few words. He shoved the journal into his son's chest:

"Dispose of this. I don't ever want to hear of this or anything related to this again. No son of mine will partake in these types of activities."

Lucius walked away, his shoes echoing through the bedroom. Tears began to well up in Draco's eyes as he muttered,

"_Evanesco._"


	3. Chapter 3

Mist crowded the air like a flock of faded birds low on the ground. A wolf howled in the distance-no, a werewolf howled in the distance; it's howl is more ravenous. Eerie statues of angels surrounded the area. Hermione felt her lungs grow cold as they filled with the crisp air. She hugged herself and shivered. The trees were bare, balded by winter's gaze. The grass was frosted white and crunched as someone walked by. Large robes dragged on what seemed to be a small boy. Hermione looked at him quizzically and followed him, she didn't want to scare him. She whispered a silencing spell and hid beneath the shadows and statues. The boy continued walking towards what seemed to be an important destination.

Another cloaked figure appeared, an adult whose robes fit properly. His face was covered by the shadow of the hood cast by the moonlight. The boy began to run towards the figure with joy. I'm so excited to see him! the boy thought to himself. He went to embrace the figure.

Petrificus Totalus! A blast of light emitted from the figure's wand. The boy fell down in his hugging position and looked around in fear. His hood fell off. He was a blond little boy with angular features. His gray eyes became misty like their surroundings.

Draco, Hermione thought to herself. She remained hidden within the shadows. The figure slowly removed his hood to get a better look at his victim. Lucius.

Lucius's hair wasn't as long as it was in the present day. It was short, about shoulder length. Still, it was just as slicked back and greasy. He walked elegantly around Draco like a lion parading around its prey.

"My, my, my, someone got ahold of my robes," he sneered as he leaned down and whispered "trying to be like daddy again?" He stood up and gave a dark chuckle. "Coward. You think you could ever be like me? I am superior here, and you will always be inferior." He kicked the boy in the side. "This position you're in right here, is how you will always be. So weak. So fragile. So pathetic," he hissed. A single tear rolled down Draco's face. "Tsk, crying already, I'll show you. Crucio!" The boy did not even cringe due to the body binding spell. He did not scream. He could not do anything but blink and breathe. His breathing became heavy. Lucius repeated the spell multiple times as Draco's body flew around the graveyard.

Hermione let out a sob. How could this be happening? I have to fix this, she said to herself. She waited for Lucius to turn around and face away from her. Finally he did.

Hermione emerged from the shadows. "Petrificus Totalus!" she shouted towards him and a light released from her wand and hit him. She let him fall. Immediately she ran to young Draco, "Finite incantatem" she said softly to the boy. He began to scream and cry without shame. Hermione held him and comforted him. "It'll be okay."

Then she awoke.

Draco came back to life in a sweat, as he often did. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his shirt was wet. He rolled out of bed and tugged off the gray tee which matched his gray eyes. He threw the shirt off to the side where his other clothes lay limp. Something was different this time. That dream. It ended differently. I was safe? I don't understand, he questioned to himself. Typically, this dream ended in his father screaming at him, telling him how awful of a person he was. Draco would awake much more scared than he did this fine morning. He pushed it off as nothing.

Draco's closet was filled to the brim. It was a big, oak wardrobe that had plenty of character to it. His clothes were placed into sections: his white dress shirts, his blazers, his robes, his casual clothes, etc. There were drawers that were filled with other necessities like his underwear, socks, ties, shoes. His eyes wandered, longingly stopping at the casual clothes and reluctantly moving to the white dress shirts and blazers. He chose a black blazer and found matching dress pants and pulled a white shirt off a hanger.

He turned on the shower and looked in the mirror. His face screamed "tired". Dark circles hung onto the bottom of his eyelids. His eyes hurt every time he blinked. A type of soreness that few truly know. A soreness that lingered through his whole body. He grabbed his shoulder, I'm sick of these aches, he thought, somberly. He looked down to the black granite sink and stared into the constellations of tiny pebbles he found engraved inside. I don't think anyone truly understands what I'm going through. I'm so alone in this-this hell. I just want somebody to understand. To love. But I don't think anyone would love me. Because fathers, their supposed to love you, and if this is what love is then I don't want it. I don't want to feel this pain again! I don't want to have to live the rest of my life feeling this way! Anger rose in his throat. He looked up to the mirror, his face was red, his eyes watery. He screamed out of anger. Blood rolled down from the shattered glass. Shit! Draco was the worst at repairing and healing spells, and if his father found out, he would be disowned. "No son of mine will be so weak as to show emotion." Draco repeated the words his father so often uttered.

He proceeded to take a shower- now he had to with blood all over his hand- and thought about what was happening to him. I just don't understand. I don't understand what's happening inside my head. My dreams are replays of my life, like a moving photograph with sound. But I also get them in the day. As soon as something reminds me of my father, I'm thrown into a whirlwind of vibrant memories. I can't escape. They're always there. I try shutting them down and they just come back more intense. Why is this happening to me? Why ME?! What did I ever do?! Wait, I can't do that. All this emotion is so conflicting. I can't show it though. Father still threatens me. With his eyes, hard and cold like ice, yet sharp like a blade. They cut into my soul, it seems. Souls, pfft. Maybe I wasn't given a soul, and that's why this happens to me. Harry has a soul. Everyone loves him. "Harry Potter, the chosen one!" I'm sick of hearing it, yet I can never hear it enough. Hermione has a soul. It's beautiful. Stop, Draco, stop. You can't think about them like that. Harry is the chosen one, you'll never be good enough for him. And Granger is a mudblood. Do you ever think that relationship will be accepted? That's even if she feels the same? Stupid. Father was right about you.

The shower turned off and Draco stepped out and dried himself off. His hair stood up in discombobulated spikes. He gazed down to his hand. Open wounds melted into the surface of his pale skin. Then he realized, "Dobby!"

The green house elf appeared, his eyes also reflected exhaustion.

"How may Dobby help you, Master Draco?" he said.

"Are you good at repairing things?" Draco responded.

"What would Dobby be repairing?"

"Well there's this," Draco gestured to the broken mirror, "and there's this," he held up his hand.

"Master Draco, you're hurting yourself again," the elf was concerned.

"Please don't patronize me, Dobby. I'm already in enough pain."

"Dobby can fix it. Both of them," he snapped his fingers in the general direction of the mirror and then wrapped his long-fingered green hands around Draco's bloody one. Both instantly repaired.

Dear Draco,

Normally, I would not be contacting you for obvious reasons, but I feel that this is an emergency. You see, I have this... thing. Everytime I have a strong emotional connection with someone, I feel that something is wrong with them. I can normally tell who it is by the feeling that I get, but one day, I couldn't tell where the feeling was coming from. I brushed it off. Until last night when I had a dream, nightmare, really, and you were in it. You were a young boy, and your father was doing terrible things to you. I now know that that feeling I was experiencing was for you. Take that as you will, but we should talk about this. Send me an owl back when you get the chance.

From,

Hermione Granger

Lucius screamed, "DRACO!"

Draco looked up from his hand that was now healed. "Dobby, I have to go." He ran downstairs, heart racing.

"Yes, father?"

"What. Is. This?" he held out the letter for Draco to read.

So Hermione changed the nightmare. How did that happen?

Lucius read Draco's inquisitive face. "Something interesting, Draco?"

"Yeah, I don't know why she would contact me about something so weird. Like what feelings, ha, that's stupid."

"Don't lie to me Draco!"

"I'm not lying! I don't know why she would contact me!"

"You imbecile! You useless swine! You shouldn't be alive with how useless you are. You had potential, and now you're working with mudbloods! I raised you better! Your mother raised you better!"

"Yeah well where is my mother now? She went away for another few days! Did you piss her off again?"

Lucius slapped Draco, hard.

"How dare you!? How dare you question my authority and stand up to me? You are weak! You crumble like termite infested wood! You can try to stand up to me all you want, but you will always be less than me!"

Lucius pivoted and stormed out of the room, his blonde hair flowing behind him like whispers of hatred.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hermione,_

_I'm sorry it took so long to respond. My father destroyed me over the letter. Yes, I did have that nightmare that you're talking about. I have it quite often actually. I was wondering why it ended so differently, mostly because it's an actual eve- nevermind. But I understand the emotional connection, I started feeling it last year, though I don't have anything interesting like you do to let me know. I would love to talk more about this, but we can't do it over letters, my father will just intercept them. I'm going school shopping soon, maybe we can meet in Diagon Alley, find somewhere hidden so my parents won't see us. Meet me at the alley next to the entrance to Knockturn Alley during shopping around noon. _

_From,_

_Draco._

Hermione held the letter to her chest with a smile. _Who knew, Draco is actually a sweetheart._

She got out of bed and began to get ready for the day. She put on her Hogwarts sweater and Gryffindor tie in preparation for going school shopping. She hoped that her and Draco would happen to go shopping on the same day.

"Ready mum?" she fixed her hair into a half-up style.

"Yes, darling, let me just tell your father that you're ready. Go ahead and wait in the car," her mother went down the hall towards her bedroom.

Hermione's heart was racing. Why would she have such of a strong connection with Draco? She rehearsed what she was going to say when she saw him. How would she even be able to get him alone? She had only been to Diagon Alley a few times and didn't know it well enough to know where there would be a hiding space. She hoped that Draco would know it better than her.

_Draco? Really Hermione? _She thought to herself, _He's the complete opposite of you! You silly little girl. Even if something would happen between you two, he would obviously want to hide it from everyone. Gryffindor and Slytherin, pure blood and muggle born, there's no way it will work between you two. Maybe it's not too late to back out. Maybe Draco will have already forgotten all about it. No, he needs my help. He's terrified of his father. I'm starting to wonder if that dream was an actual event that he was simply remembering in his sleep—no father could be so cruel to his child though, not even the likes of Malfoy. _

Her parents got in the car and began the drive to London. She thought more about her secret crush on Draco. Harry and Ron could never find out, they hate Draco with a burning passion. She slept the rest of the way.

Draco nervously got ready, he hoped that Hermione would be going to Diagon Alley today. He stared in the mirror and rehearsed what would happen. He smiled at himself, "Come on, I know a place." His smile quickly fell, "Too obvious. I have to make it seem like something I would do. Hmm." His face fell into a sneer, "Over here, mudblood! I've got something for you!" It pained him to have to treat her that way, but knew he had to in case he got caught.

His father pried the bathroom door open with his wand, "Who were you talking to?"

"No one. Myself. Practicing," his head dropped in shame.

"Practicing? For what?" Lucius lifted his left eyebrow inquisitively.

"N-nothing. Just going to teach a mudblood a lesson," Draco assumed his normal personality, hoping his father would fall for it.

"Hmm, interesting. Well alright then, just don't get caught," and with that he left.

Draco let out a huge sigh, _that was close_.

He walked down the marble staircase, shoes echoing with every step, to see his mother and father discussing something. He decided to stop and listen.

"Your son is an abomination," Lucius hissed.

"Excuse you, he is not. So what he has a thing for that Potte—" Lucius shushed his wife with his wand.

"Come down, Draco," his gaze shifted to Draco, "We've taught you time and time again that it's rude to eavesdrop. Do you need another lesson?"

"No sir," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"That's what I thought. Let's go then, get your floo powder," Lucius grabbed a handful of floo powder as did his wife.

Draco grabbed some with a shaky hand. He watched his father step into the fire place and clearly state "Diagon Alley." His mother followed suit. Draco took a deep breath and followed her.

Suddenly, he was in Diagon Alley. He looked for his father's unmistakable hair and rushed to meet him.

"I trust you have your list of school supplies, Draco," Lucius said and before Draco could even answer, he responded with "Good. I'll be heading to Knockturn Alley. Come Narcissa," Narcissa lightly caressed Draco's face before catching up with Lucius.

Draco was alone in Diagon Alley for the first time, and it couldn't have been a better opportunity. He quickly began looking for the wavy-haired girl. He walked into Flourish and Blotts and looked between the books. He decided to buy his school books while he was there. While waiting to check out, he spotted a family of red-heads. _Weasley. Maybe she's tagging along with him. _He purchased his books and hid behind a stack of books close to the Weasley family. They were arguing about which twin would get the new book instead of the only second-hand book that was left. Draco thought it to be a petty argument and that any pure-blood family should have a well enough paying job to pay for all new books. He wasn't sure if that was him or his father talking.


End file.
